


it's my (pants) party and i'll cry if i want to

by piratekelly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, College, Crack, Cursed Stiles, M/M, Mention of previous relationships, Praise Kink, Rimming, Romance, blink and you miss it - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratekelly/pseuds/piratekelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles really should have known by now that dating a witch who’s liable to get angry at the drop of a hat probably wasn’t his best relationship decision. But he didn't. </p><p>Stiles just never thought that, after she cursed him, it would turn out to be so literal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's my (pants) party and i'll cry if i want to

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to explain this one, guys. It is, no doubt, the crackiest thing I've ever come up with. 
> 
> My thanks go to Chiomi (who also beta'd) for actively pushing me to write this. I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't found it funny.
> 
> Also, if you roomed with me at Days of the Wolf in Chicago this year, you know exactly how this happened.
> 
> I'm muchfic-manypair on tumblr!

Stiles really should have known by now that dating a witch who’s liable to get angry at the drop of a hat probably wasn’t his best relationship decision. But Alicia, with her long brown hair and green eyes, had all but bewitched, bothered, and bewildered him within 30 minutes of meeting her. Stiles had immediately fallen for her humor, oscillating from cutting to borderline ridiculous within seconds, and he just couldn’t get enough. It had been so long since someone other than Scott had made him laugh this hard, and he decided that freshman year of college was just as good a time as any to test out the dating pool. Coffee dates turned to real dinner dates, which eventually gave way to “hey, I’m bored and ordering Chinese, come over and make out with me” dates, and eventually, “I might ask this girl to move in with me.” Before he’d known it, three years had gone by and he hadn’t just dipped his toe in the waters, he’d full on cannon-balled and there was no looking back.

Unfortunately, Stiles is really bad at remembering things. Even more specifically, he’s bad at remembering relationship milestones, particularly anniversaries, and Alicia’s birthday, his own birthday (finals were rough that year, okay), and Alicia was less than impressed. After they’d moved in together six months ago, things had gone from pretty standard in their relationship to downright sinking ship. Three years of a relationship and all they’d done during some of their major turning points was fight. Stiles had tried explaining to her that anniversary celebrations were nice, in theory, but they always felt like a celebration of not failing at partnering to Stiles, rather than one where you celebrate another year of a wonderful life together.

Alicia really hadn’t liked that.

They’d broken up that night, after a long, knock-down, drag-out fight that’d left Stiles emotionally and physically drained and Alicia packing her basics into an overnight bag. She was on her way out the door before she’d stopped, turned, and glared at Stiles in a way he knew meant absolutely nothing good was going to happen.

She’d muttered something under her breath about cursing him to “spread happiness and joy wherever you lie” before slamming the door behind her. Stiles waved it off and started getting ready for bed. It didn’t sound like that bad of a curse, to be honest. There were worse things than a party every time Stiles got horizontal.

 

\--

 

Stiles learned very quickly that the curse is a little more...literal, than he'd anticipated.

It’s so much worse.

 

\--

 

The first time Stiles hooks up after Alicia leaves it’s with some dude he picked up at a party who’d had kind eyes and a lilting smile and absolutely no desire for a relationship.

In other words, he was perfect.

So Stiles had taken him home, and they’d gotten down to business. Outside of deciding who was going to top, very few words were exchanged; all their subsequent communication had been done through grunts and moans and heavy, labored breathing. It was good. Stiles was having no strings attached sex for the first time in his life and found that he didn’t really have a problem with it like some people did. He’s met people who need an emotional connection, some who don’t get that at all, and some who just don’t need sex as part of their daily lives. He just happens to not need a whole lot more than some sort of compatibility.

Everything’s going great, everyone’s having a good time, orgasms are on the horizon, when it happens.

Stiles’ orgasm sneaks up on him, barely taking the time to pool low in his belly before frying his brain and shooting it out his dick to the sound of...a [party horn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cP0VoI0nqsU)?

It’s like the world freezes and all Stiles can see is the absolutely shocked and confused look on his partner’s face as his brain starts functioning normally again. That was weird, he thought.

“What. The fuck. Just happened,” his partner asks.

“You. What?”

The man underneath him slips away just far enough that Stiles has to pull out or risk this being even more awkward than it already is.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks, pointing at Stiles’ dick.

Stiles frowns. “What do you mean, what is that? It’s a co-- what the fuck.”

He can hardly believe what he’s seeing, honestly. Where the tip of the condom would normally be full of normal people jizz, it’s full of what looks like glitter. Glitter.

“I think you should go.”

He nods and backs away. “I agree. I’m gonna do just that.”

The other man pulls a sheet over his hips. “I’d say it was fun, but--”

“Oh god, please don’t.”

And with that Stiles grabs his clothes on the way out of the bedroom, dresses in the living room, and walks out the door.

This is not good.

 

\--

 

Stiles doesn’t hook up again after that.

 

\--

 

Nearly a year later, Stiles is just weeks away from graduation when he sees a familiar face walking on the other side of the quad.

“Derek Hale,” he mumbles under his breath.

The man in question stops mid-stride and leans his head to the left, obviously trying to locate where the voice is coming from.

Stiles smiles and waves in Derek’s direction. “About thirty degrees to your left, big guy.”

Derek spots him and immediately takes off in Stiles’ direction, nearly mowing over a group of sorority girls in the process. Stiles emphatically does not giggle, he doesn’t, but it’s hilarious to see Derek relaxed and getting all flushed and apologetic because he nearly knocked down the girl Stiles had noticed eye-balling Derek from a distance.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs.

“Hi, Derek,” Stiles replies, feeling a little giddy on the inside. He hasn’t seen Derek since he left Mexico on a mission with Braeden, but the older man looks good. He’s not quite as muscle-bound as he once was, all juiced up on alpha power, but even Stiles can tell that he’s all lean muscles underneath his customary tight black t-shirt. And Derek may be wearing normal, loose fit guy jeans, but Stiles isn’t under any illusions that Derek’s ass is anything less than still perfect.

“--coffee?”

“Huh?” Stiles replies, snapping back to the present moment.

Derek smiles as he repeats the question. “Do you want to get coffee? Maybe catch up?”

“Yes,” Stiles agrees, grinning. “I absolutely want to do that with you.”

 

\--

 

It takes him all of five minutes and three sips of black coffee for Stiles to decide that Derek is probably the love of his life.

They talk about school, how Stiles is double majoring in criminology and mythology, why he’d chosen this school over that, where the other pack members were spread across California (mostly) and the rest of the country. Derek seems genuinely interested in learning where his former betas had gotten off to after he’d left, and is pleased when he finds out they’ve all either gone to trade school (Erica) or universities (Isaac and Boyd).

“I knew they’d be fine without me,” he’d said.

“Doesn’t mean they didn’t miss you,” Stiles had replied.

The real kicker of this pseudo coffee date is that Derek mentions he’s here to finish his Masters in Library Science, and the image of Derek in thick black glasses and a form fitting vest nearly makes him glitter bomb the entire cafe.

Conversation moves to Derek’s time in South America with Cora, heading back to New York for a while to go through all the stuff he’d had left in storage when he’d gone to find Laura. How he’d landed in Chicago for a while working odd jobs until he got himself straightened out and decided what path to take next. Fortunately, for the both of them, Stiles thinks, it brought Derek back home to California.

After another four hours of endless conversation, Stiles sees this working out beautifully. Derek is relaxed in a way that he never was when he’d first returned to Beacon Hills. Of course, some things never change; Derek still gets grumpy when he’s interrupted, and the most expressive parts of his body are still his eyebrows, but there’s a lightness about him that eases Stiles’ nerves.

They exchange numbers and make plans to meet at the same cafe in two days for pre-movie coffees. Stiles is afraid to ask if it’s a date, doesn’t want to ruin whatever it is going on between them. Stiles had thought something had been blooming between them, back when they spent an entire summer researching alpha packs, but then Derek had left and that had been that. They’re getting to know each other all over again, as people who are settled and secure in themselves, but Stiles can’t help but feel hopeful about where this is going.

The tentative kiss Derek brushes over his lips just confirms his hopes.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he offers, smiling.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, a little breathless. “You will.”

 

\--

 

They’ve been dating for three months when they decide to go to Pride together. Derek’s loosened up a little more about crowds in the years they’ve been separated, and Stiles is happy that he gets to hold Derek’s hand in a place where absolutely no one will think anything of it. Derek looks relaxed, despite how grumpy he’d been when Stiles took him to the face-painting booth to have a rainbow put on one cheek (Derek by now has realized why he was asked to shave this morning) and Stiles’ initials on the other. Stiles gets Derek’s initials and a shooting star on either side of his face and they walk, hand in hand, toward the parade.

Derek’s friend Kira is in charge of her group’s float this year. Derek cheers when it comes by, and it’s a really wonderful design, colored with greys and purples and whites, boasting that you, too, can become an Ace on Asexuality! and where to find their booth for more information. She looks positively gleeful, eyes shining with unbridled happiness as she waves at the crowd around her. Stiles’ heart swells with how much he loves Derek in this moment, loves the way he’s grown, has accepted the things he can’t change and moved on without past mistakes weighting him down. He’s overjoyed that Derek has someone like Kira in his life, someone who is fun and bright and who makes Derek smile on days where Stiles knows he doesn’t want to. The life Derek’s created for himself since leaving Beacon Hills has done him so much good, and Stiles realizes that he wants to be part of any future growth for as long as he’s allowed.

They’ve been taking things slow in the time they’ve been together, keeping their physical relationship strictly to long minutes spent making out on Derek’s couch and nights spent cuddling aggressively while watching late night tv before they both pass out, curled around each other in Stiles’ bed. It’s been fine, great, even, if anyone were to ask Stiles, but the lack of a more...adult physical intimacy isn’t really a thing they’ve talked about.

Stiles doesn’t even know where to begin

He’s riding the high of being in a place where no one is going to judge them for leaving early, assumed to be giddy from the celebration of love and acceptance happening around them and wanting to have a little piece of that to just themselves. That’s partially true, but the other half of it is that Stiles realizes he’s falling in love and he wants to bask in that with Derek and Derek alone.

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand to get his attention. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We just got here!”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” he replies. They’ve been there for hours, and even Derek’s skin is starting to pink up in a way that would mean a painful sunburn for the average human. He pulls on Derek’s hand, practically begging him to meet Stiles’ gaze. “Derek.”

“What?” he grumbles.

“Look at me,” Stiles says. When Derek turns, a little childishly if you ask Stiles, he looks Derek directly in the eye. “Let’s get out of here.”

Derek must smell the arousal floating off him in waves, because his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline when he realizes exactly what Stiles is suggesting. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“We should go,” Derek suggests.

“You don’t say?”

“Shut up.”

 

\--

 

Everything is a blur the second the door to Derek’s apartment shuts behind them.

Stiles finds himself pinned to the door, Derek’s hands around his wrists, holding him down as he dives in for a kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and no finesse, just a sloppy wet meeting of lips and heavy breathing as Derek gets with the program and starts reciprocating.  There are warm, calloused hands holding his face and Stiles is having a hard time believing that this is happening. They’ve been putting sex on hold since they started this, the tension rising high enough that Stiles couldn’t stand to be alone with him for fear that Derek would smell the arousal emanating from him. The last thing he wanted to do was make Derek uncomfortable when their abstinence was something they discussed and agreed on together.

It seems as though they’ve both had enough of waiting, because it doesn’t take long for them to make it to Derek’s room, a line of clothes left behind in their rush to touch, to taste, to reassure each other that they are still whole and breathing, and here, and the knowledge that this is finally happening is heady.  Stiles is pulled out of his thoughts when he’s unceremoniously shoved onto the bed, bouncing with the momentum, now only in his boxer briefs and socks.  Derek is still standing, looking down at Stiles with a soft, but hungry look in his eyes. Normally Stiles would shy away from such attention, but coming from Derek it just feels right.  It’s intense, having someone look at him like that, with hooded eyes gazing slowly up and down his body, by that person being turned on by what they see.

“You gonna come down here, or are you just going to stare all day?” he asks, voice cracking towards the end.

Derek grins, slowly leaning over so that his hands are on the bed next to Stiles’ hips, his face hovering just above Stiles’, breath fanning out across Stiles’ skin and sending shivers down his spine.

“How do you want it?” Derek whispers, gently brushing his nose with Stiles’ before moving down to the hinge of his jaw, kissing and nipping at the skin there. 

“Uh, I –” Stiles hesitates, trying to calm down the hammering beat of his heart.  Before he can respond, Derek pulls back just enough so that he’s looking Stiles in the eye.

“Stiles, are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Stiles responds, leaning up to peck Derek softly on the lips.  “I’m so sure about this, you have no idea.”

Derek smiles, leaning down to rest his forehead against Stiles’.  “Good.” 

Stiles lets out a shaky exhale, his lips curling up into a slight smile as he closes his eyes and relaxes into the contact.  “Do you have a preferences?” 

“I’d really,” Derek hums, leaning down to press a kiss to the skin of Stiles’ neck, “really like it if you’d fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Stiles squeaks. “Yeah, I think we can do that.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Derek climbs over Stiles, knees resting on either side of Stiles’ hips, and grinds down.  “Ohhh, we can definitely do that.”

They spend a long time just kissing and touching every inch of available skin they can find, getting used to the feel of each other under their hands.  Derek’s lips find the inside of Stiles’ elbow, teeth gently nipping their way down his arm before he sucks Stiles’ middle finger in to the wet, warm heat of his mouth.  Stiles sinks his teeth into the curve where Derek’s shoulder and neck meet, earning him a strangled moan that he can actually feel coming from Derek’s throat.

At some point their underwear disappears, thrown behind them to land somewhere that’s probably not the floor, and Stiles cracks a joke about this being like every porn he’s ever hated because he still has his fucking socks on.  Derek just grins and kisses his way down Stiles’ chest, bypassing his entire lower abdomen in favor of biting down on the inside of Stiles’ thigh.  Any other day and Stiles would have donkey kicked him in the face because that spot is particularly ticklish, but right now he can only gasp, back arching off the bed, because holy shit Derek’s biting him and it’s hot like burning.

Stiles wants more, so much more, wants his newfound biting kink to be thoroughly indulged in this new adventure, but Derek just peels off his socks and taps his hip, motioning for him to roll over.  He’s learned to expect a lot of things during his somewhat limited sexual experiences – he and Alicia hadn’t explored all that much and his only one night stand hadn’t ended well – but Derek kissing his way down, down, down Stiles’ lower back was not one of them. 

The first touch of Derek’s tongue knocks the breath out of his lungs, fingers gripping the sheets so tight he thinks for a second he might actually be able to rip them, holding on for dear life.  Derek’s hands and mouth pull him apart one touch at a time, alternating from gentle licks to enthusiastic tongue-fucking, the wet smacking sound of skin on skin that has Stiles begging him to never stop ever, jesus that’s so good.  It’s sloppy and filthy and so many shades of amazing, Stiles had no idea he’d be so in to this, and he has to push Derek away before Stiles brings everything to a very abrupt end.

He rolls onto his back, eyes focused on the ceiling so he can avoid looking at Derek until he calms down just enough to keep things moving forward, but a quiet gasp brings his eyes back down to the foot of the bed.  Derek has one arm pressed down into the bed in front of him, forehead resting on top of it, the long line of his back exposed to where Derek’s hand disappears behind him.  He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, skin tan and glowing in the artificial light of the room, hips moving gently with the rocking motion of his wrist.  Stiles can only moan at the absolutely pornographic sight before him, and Derek looks up, eyes hooded and dark with pleasure, mouth hanging open, panting as he stares back at Stiles.

Stiles can’t stop moaning, a litany of fuck and your mouth, jesus and you’re so hot like this you don’t even know, and he’d be content to let Derek stay down there as long as he likes, but Derek asked to be fucked and Stiles is going to give it to him. “Derek, I.. fuck, just get up here already.”

As soon as he’s within range, Stiles flips Derek over onto his stomach, leaving him spread-eagle on the mattress as he playfully swats his ass before pulling Derek’s cheeks apart with one hand, lining himself up with the other.  Derek’s so hot inside, so smooth and warm, pulling Stiles in until he can’t go any further.  He stays there for a while, completely still, trying not to come before Derek gets a chance to really enjoy himself.  He pulls back slowly, gauging Derek’s comfort level, before shoving back inside in one sold thrust.

Derek’s so responsive, nearly every thrust forcing a pant, a moan, a loud cry of pleasure from his throat, and Stiles isn’t sure how long he’s going to last with all the noise Derek’s making.  He’s determined, though, for Derek to enjoy this as much as Stiles has, so he adjusts their position a little, moving so that his knees are up by Derek’s hips and Derek’s legs are pushed together.  He must be hitting Derek’s prostate, or Derek is incredibly sensitive, because the noises pouring from his mouth only increase in frequency and volume from there on.

Stiles, driven by Derek’s moans of encouragement, threads his fingers in Derek’s hair, pulling him back just far enough so that Stiles can press kisses to the column of his neck while fucking him, can whisper how good Derek is, how hot he looks all spread out for Stiles to do whatever he pleases with him, how good he takes it, like he was made to be fucked.

“I’m gonna come,” Stiles mumbles, breath labored as he thrusts into Derek over and over again. The man below him is practically dripping sweat, the skin of his back slick and sticky with it, and Stiles wants nothing more than to put his mouth all over it, mark him up like the tattoo between Derek’s shoulder blades. Stiles is so close, can feel the heat of orgasm pooling low in his belly, but then he remembers.

Derek makes a very dissatisfied noise when Stiles abruptly pulls out. “The fuck?”

Stiles wraps a hand around himself, and instantly starts stripping himself at a brutal pace. “I can’t come in you. It’s just -- it’s not a good idea.”

“Really, Stiles?” Derek replies, looking back over his shoulder to look Stiles right in the eyes. “Why is it such a bad idea?”

“Because,” Stiles exhales sharply. “You might never stop pooping glitter.”

Derek buries his face in the pillow underneath him and groans. “I realize we were just at Pride, but now is not the time to be making jokes --“

He can’t help but think that Derek is far too articulate for a man who was getting pretty thoroughly fucked only a minute ago. “Glitter farts will never be a joke, Derek.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Derek asks. He sounds like a mix of alarmed and confused, and honestly, Stiles can’t really blame him.

Stiles has noticed that Derek’s dick has also begun to flag, hanging half hard between muscular thighs. He can’t really blame Derek for that either.

“I’ll explain it all,” Stiles replies, nearly unable to speak with how close he is. “Just... let me come first.”

Derek’s never going to believe him if Stiles just comes out and says, “Hey, sorry, shoulda used a condom to control the arts and crafts fair that’s about to take place,” so he does the only thing he can to prove he’s not lying.

He comes.

And god, it is the most euphoric feeling to feel completely shameless about orgasms again. His blood is racing through his veins, his chest quaking with the need to pull in oxygen before he blacks out completely. His mind is clear, for the first time in what feels like forever, and nothing has felt so magical in his entire life.

Speaking of magic.

If Stiles is feeling euphoric, then by the time Stiles comes back to himself and opens his eyes, the view that meets him is the exact opposite. A face which, by the way, is covered in a decent amount of normal people jizz. And by that he means, there’s no glitter. He should have realized something was up when the party horn never sounded, but to be fair, he’d been a little busy at the time.

He doesn’t know what to do, so when Derek asks him to explain, Stiles reaches out with a single finger with the purpose of writing on Derek’s forehead. His hand is smacked away before he gets a chance to even start, and Derek is not even a tiny bit amused.

“Explain,” he demands again.

“Well,” Stiles replies. “I was going to write ‘love’ on your forehead, but I don’t think there’s enough jizz for four letters.”

Derek huffs out an annoyed breath as he throws back the sheets and makes his way to the bathroom. Stiles winces as he watches him go; that probably could have been addressed with a little more maturity, but Stiles has been living with this for a year. If he doesn’t joke about it, he’ll actually go crazy. So he does the mature thing, like the adult he is, and follows his boyfriend into the bathroom to explain, in exact detail, what the fuck just happened.

Stiles knocks quietly on the door. “Derek?” He hears the squeaky tap of the cold water turn, so he slumps down to the floor and leans back. “Are you really not going to let me in?”

A second tap turns, and that’s all the answer he needs.

“I’m not screwing around with you,” he confesses. If Derek isn’t going to let him in, then Stiles is just going to have to give him a reason to come out. “It’s a really embarrassing story, actually. We’re going to laugh about this later.”

So Stiles dives in to the story of his rocky relationship with a witch who had very little patience for partners who never remembered important dates, who cursed him to an eternal pants party the night they broke up. He tells him all about how he discovered he’d been cursed a little more literally than he’d initially thought, his one night stand that didn’t even make it through the first hour, and the absolute mortification that had come with jizzing glitter, of all things, especially in front of someone else. Even more importantly, he hadn’t bothered with trying to hook up after that. He’d just been too embarrassed.

His throat is dry and scratchy by the time he’s done, and the bathroom door is still closed. Stiles sighs and moves to get up, thinking that maybe he should collect his things and be gone by the time Derek emerges. They’d been on their way to building something great, and now Derek probably thinks that Stiles is lying, and is questioning every other thing that’s passed Stiles’ lips since they reconnected. It hurts, to think that even though the curse is apparently lifted, he may not get to have the one thing he’s wanted for himself for so long.

“Your girlfriend turned your dick into a party rocket because you forgot her birthday?”

Stiles turns and faces Derek, surprised. He hadn’t even heard the door open. “Ex. And it was an anniversary, so.”

Derek sighs. “You could have just told me, you know.”

“How? Sorry, condoms are required but not for their designed purpose. It’s so your ass doesn’t look like you sat in glitter. Naked.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Stiles’ jaw drops. “You supp--”

“You know,” Derek says, steamrolling right over the beginning of Stiles’ fit. “You’re technically the only one who got to have a pants party tonight.”

There are a number of jokes at his disposal that he could utilize here, but mostly he feels bad that Derek’s good time had been interrupted by Stiles’ crisis. So instead of making light of the moment, he’s going to do the opposite of what Derek expects. He levels Derek with his best bedroom eyes and slowly makes his way across the room, stopping just short of skin to skin contact. Stiles leans in and up so that his mouth is level with Derek’s ear.

“Well now that there’s no longer a party in my pants, let’s keep you out of yours for a little while longer, shall we?”

Derek laughs, and it’s the last non-sexual sound that comes out of his mouth for the rest of the night. 


End file.
